WorldNetDaily asks:
Anyway, per WND, Mr. Savage Wiener interviewed Pat “as a part of Pat’s national media tour promoting his new autobiography, ‘Pat Boone’s America 50 Years.’” And it sounds like Pat’s book perfectly exemplifies the values touted by both Pat and Michael.
And Michael Savage: cheap whore.
It’s a marriage made in wingnut heaven.
What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?But we don’t like their answer (“Great insights!”), so we’re asking YOU to come up with a more appropriate response.
Anyway, per WND, Mr. Savage Wiener interviewed Pat “as a part of Pat’s national media tour promoting his new autobiography, ‘Pat Boone’s America 50 Years.’” And it sounds like Pat’s book perfectly exemplifies the values touted by both Pat and Michael.
Pat has become a legend in his own lifetime, like his great-great grandfather, Daniel Boone. He’s now sold more than 45 million records in his 50-plus year career. And he’s not ready to retire yet!Then maybe he can get a job as a greeter at Wal-Mart (after all, he does have those personal connections with the Walton clan, as he told us a couple of weeks ago.)
The goal of his new book, says Boone, “is to help Americans reflect with him on where they have come from, where they are, and were they must go to get back on a divine course – for the sake of future generations.”The battle to strengthen American’s language is a “patriotic issue” akin to the fight against terrorism now? I guess Pastor Swank must be our sworn enemy in this battle then.
Boone is an outspoken conservative on many patriotic issues near to Savage’s heart – such as the fight against terrorism and the battle to strengthen America’s borders, language and culture.
The Judeo-Christian values of integrity, modesty and decency have been under attack since the “Age of Stupidity” first began back in the 1960s, he says, leading all the way up to today’s push for so-called “progressive values” – an attempt to redefine right as wrong.
[…]Um, is it just me, or is this Savage/Boone radio interview starting to smell a little like an infomercial?
Boone goes on to tackle many other sticky questions on immigration, social security, retirement, privacy and his experience with investments, including gold investing with Swiss America, of which Pat is both a client and a national spokesman.
Boone explained to Savage, “U.S. gold coins provide an excellent tool for teaching our children and grandchildren about America’s providential history and the history of our money. And, as a bonus, these gold and silver treasures tend to grow in value over time – which also teaches a valuable lesson of patience for all ages of investors.”And kids, just remember how well investing in coins worked out for the state of Ohio!
Boone points out that while America’s money system was once was the envy of the world, it all began to change in 1965 when it abandoned gold and silver coinage in favor of an “IOU-nothing” paper money system.
In light of the current economic instability and long-term trend of a falling dollar both Boone and Savage agree that every American should consider putting themselves back on a gold and silver standard, since it’s unlikely the government ever will.Pat Boone: entertainer, crackpot, paid shill, and legend.
And Michael Savage: cheap whore.
It’s a marriage made in wingnut heaven.
41 Responses to “A Question for the Ages”
Frist! Woo hoo! (Oops, sorry, wrong blog.)
What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?
I dunno, but I’m looking forward to reading your and Scott’s review of the horror movie about it.
What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?
I dunno, but I’m looking forward to reading your and Scott’s review of the horror movie about it.
What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?
A large-headed wiener that gains its fame riping off the music of minorities, has a daughter who sings one atrocious anthem of love to god, all while spewing non-stop vitriol on the radio.
OR-
A man who writes as well as he interprets music.
A large-headed wiener that gains its fame riping off the music of minorities, has a daughter who sings one atrocious anthem of love to god, all while spewing non-stop vitriol on the radio.
OR-
A man who writes as well as he interprets music.
What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?
The only person willing to sing at Augusto Pinochet’s funeral?
Katherine Harris’s dream date?
The only person willing to sing at Augusto Pinochet’s funeral?
Katherine Harris’s dream date?
What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?
The Apocalypse?
And Jesus mother fucking Christ. The Gold Standard? McKinleynomics rulz!
The Apocalypse?
And Jesus mother fucking Christ. The Gold Standard? McKinleynomics rulz!
“The Manson Family Christmas Album”
What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?
I’m going with a pasty closeted talk show host with white shoes who gets hits with Alan Keyes’ material.
I’m going with a pasty closeted talk show host with white shoes who gets hits with Alan Keyes’ material.
What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?
A whole mess o’ stupid.
As to precious metals, the only viable reason you would invest in them in any significant way was if you anticipated an economic collapse and runaway inflation. I suppose if you are expecting the Rapture, it’s not an unwise financial strategy… but doesn’t it presume that you ain’t gonna be one of the Raptured?
A whole mess o’ stupid.
As to precious metals, the only viable reason you would invest in them in any significant way was if you anticipated an economic collapse and runaway inflation. I suppose if you are expecting the Rapture, it’s not an unwise financial strategy… but doesn’t it presume that you ain’t gonna be one of the Raptured?
What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?
I believe the answer is…Music to burn crosses by.
I believe the answer is…Music to burn crosses by.
Does anybody remember Pat Boon’es heavy metal album some years ago? A couple of months ago I heard his version of Stairway to Heaven on the radio; possibly the worst cover in the history of popular music (even worse than William Shatner’s Mr. Tambourine Man, and that’s saying something). The cover of the album shows Pat in full leather regalia. To this day I can’t decide if the album was a serious (albeit disastrously misguided) project or if he actually has a sly, subversive sense of humor hidden down there somewhere.
Something not even the most hardcore yaoi fangirl would ever want to see.
What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?
AAAAYYYEEEEAHHHH!!!!
“So that’s what you look like. You’re ugly! Just try your mind control on me! I’ll see you in Hell first.”
–Claire Anderson (Beverly Garland) in It Conquered The World
AAAAYYYEEEEAHHHH!!!!
“So that’s what you look like. You’re ugly! Just try your mind control on me! I’ll see you in Hell first.”
–Claire Anderson (Beverly Garland) in It Conquered The World
What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?
I’m not sure what you’d call it, but I bet it would look a lot like that HR Geiger poster that got the Dead Kennedys in so much trouble.
I’m not sure what you’d call it, but I bet it would look a lot like that HR Geiger poster that got the Dead Kennedys in so much trouble.
What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?
Ecru.
Ecru.
What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?
Same thing you get when you contract the quadratus lumborum, rectus abdominis, external and internal obliques, transversus abdominis and diaphragm, and relax the puborectalis and internal anal sphincter.
Same thing you get when you contract the quadratus lumborum, rectus abdominis, external and internal obliques, transversus abdominis and diaphragm, and relax the puborectalis and internal anal sphincter.
What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?
You get a Bipedal Mammal that hates every other thing in the world that is not just like it in every way but lacks the physical courage to do anything about it but write hateful screeds that are dependent on a fundamentalist mythology…
mikey
You get a Bipedal Mammal that hates every other thing in the world that is not just like it in every way but lacks the physical courage to do anything about it but write hateful screeds that are dependent on a fundamentalist mythology…
mikey
What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?
I think this is kind of a no-brainer. In fact, yes, what you get is a no-brainer.
I think this is kind of a no-brainer. In fact, yes, what you get is a no-brainer.
What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?
Dumb fucks in white bucks.
Dumb fucks in white bucks.
What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?
A father raper AND a mother stabber?
A father raper AND a mother stabber?
“What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?”
I don’t know-let’s toss them in a giant Cuisinart and find out! What setting should we use?
I don’t know-let’s toss them in a giant Cuisinart and find out! What setting should we use?
What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?
Over 250 sick after eating at Olive Garden in Indianapolis
Over 250 sick after eating at Olive Garden in Indianapolis
That’s just… I mean… the gold standard… the age of stupidity. Investing in gold with Swiss America. Hmmm… I wonder if he’s got any money in stolen Old Masters.
I think a cross between them would be the gold standard of a new Age of Stupidity, a.k.a., teh Gilded Age of Stupidity.
I don’t think stupidity means what they think it means.
I think a cross between them would be the gold standard of a new Age of Stupidity, a.k.a., teh Gilded Age of Stupidity.
I don’t think stupidity means what they think it means.
I dunno, but it’s a REALLY lousy name for a rock band.
What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?
Pusillanimous Pissant and Mr. Prissy, the comic relief sidekicks of the Legion of Doom.
Pusillanimous Pissant and Mr. Prissy, the comic relief sidekicks of the Legion of Doom.
‘What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?’
“I don’t know-let’s toss them in a giant Cuisinart and find out! What setting should we use?” — Bill S.
BEST. ONE. YET.
Although I, personally, would’ve voted for a woodchipper, a 50-lb. sack of quicklime, and a few sturdy new rosebushes, yours works, too.
Pat Boone should’ve been lynched about 40 years ago, for what he’s done to discriminate against, steal from, and disenfranchise HUNDREDS of African-American artists. Not to mention those fucking white shoes — they still give me the fucking creeps.
Yeah, yeah, Elvis did almost the same fucking thing, but y’know what? ELVIS GREW UP IN TUPELO, MISSISSIPPI. Elvis UNDERSTOOD the blues and R&B and barrellhouse bawdy piano and every other art form that came out of the Delta. He might have been as backwards as every other Bubba on certain issues, but at least he fucking GOT IT. I don’t know if he ever paid the residuals that “race record” artists deserved, but by damn, at least he wasn’t WHITE-WASHING the fucking music.
I still wish that Big Mama Thornton had shown up at Graceland with a big ol’ purse, waiting on her cut of the money.
But what Boone did to “race music” was a sin and a fucking de-evolving SHAME — he and Paul Anka and other “uber-caucasians” (whether or not their birth names were quite so “white and delightsome”) who stole the lyrics and put them to fucking LAWRENCE WELK FUCKING POLKA MUSIC ought to be publicly flogged in the street, their leathery hides ripped from their arthritic bones as they’re dragged behind very ornery wild horses over unpaved roads.
And it’d keep the fucking senile moron off of the radio and out of the bookstores, too, dammit.
Y’know what I’d really like to see? A forcible repo job on his porcelain caps/dentures — that’d keep that stupid motherfucker out of sight.
“I don’t know-let’s toss them in a giant Cuisinart and find out! What setting should we use?” — Bill S.
BEST. ONE. YET.
Although I, personally, would’ve voted for a woodchipper, a 50-lb. sack of quicklime, and a few sturdy new rosebushes, yours works, too.
Pat Boone should’ve been lynched about 40 years ago, for what he’s done to discriminate against, steal from, and disenfranchise HUNDREDS of African-American artists. Not to mention those fucking white shoes — they still give me the fucking creeps.
Yeah, yeah, Elvis did almost the same fucking thing, but y’know what? ELVIS GREW UP IN TUPELO, MISSISSIPPI. Elvis UNDERSTOOD the blues and R&B and barrellhouse bawdy piano and every other art form that came out of the Delta. He might have been as backwards as every other Bubba on certain issues, but at least he fucking GOT IT. I don’t know if he ever paid the residuals that “race record” artists deserved, but by damn, at least he wasn’t WHITE-WASHING the fucking music.
I still wish that Big Mama Thornton had shown up at Graceland with a big ol’ purse, waiting on her cut of the money.
But what Boone did to “race music” was a sin and a fucking de-evolving SHAME — he and Paul Anka and other “uber-caucasians” (whether or not their birth names were quite so “white and delightsome”) who stole the lyrics and put them to fucking LAWRENCE WELK FUCKING POLKA MUSIC ought to be publicly flogged in the street, their leathery hides ripped from their arthritic bones as they’re dragged behind very ornery wild horses over unpaved roads.
And it’d keep the fucking senile moron off of the radio and out of the bookstores, too, dammit.
Y’know what I’d really like to see? A forcible repo job on his porcelain caps/dentures — that’d keep that stupid motherfucker out of sight.
Ah, shit, I gotta go on after Annti. Do any of you know what that’s like? Sure you do, if you’ve posted here much. It’s like being a standup comic in the late ’60s and having to follow Lenny Bruce or Woody Allen in top form (yeah, Woody was funny, once. I know–hard to believe, but true). Gaah! Oh, see, look–an Annti word. I’m stealing, already.
So lessee. Savage Wiener +White Chocolate Nutbar Lamb O’ God–Teh OTHER White Bread™. Well, shit, other than that I would truthfully promise to buy Pat’s crappy book if he sincerely promised to never wear leather chaps again, not even in private, most of the good jokes have already been taken. Lemme think here a minute….
Well, you know, aside from turning you gay, soy shrinks your pee-pee. So, if you combined those two, I guess you’d end up with a nearly normal-sized Savage Wiener. And, ew, bad mental image, trew!
So lessee. Savage Wiener +
Well, you know, aside from turning you gay, soy shrinks your pee-pee. So, if you combined those two, I guess you’d end up with a nearly normal-sized Savage Wiener. And, ew, bad mental image, trew!
Originally, I was gonna say, “a gelatinous cube?”, but it seemed too obscure.
“What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?”
A shit sandwich made with whitebread.
Great Cooga Mooga, investing with Swiss America sounds almost as great as buying Acne Statin.
A shit sandwich made with whitebread.
Great Cooga Mooga, investing with Swiss America sounds almost as great as buying Acne Statin.
“What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?”
I don’t know-let’s toss them in a giant Cuisinart and find out! What setting should we use? .
I’d suggest puree.
Tools remain tools.
I think Pat recognized the irony with his “heavy metal” album, but not to the correct degree.
“It’s teh funny”, he thought, and to a certain extent he was right. But I’m irresponsibly speculating that he thought it would be ironic “cool” when in fact it was just awful.
I don’t know-let’s toss them in a giant Cuisinart and find out! What setting should we use? .
I’d suggest puree.
Tools remain tools.
I think Pat recognized the irony with his “heavy metal” album, but not to the correct degree.
“It’s teh funny”, he thought, and to a certain extent he was right. But I’m irresponsibly speculating that he thought it would be ironic “cool” when in fact it was just awful.
Anti,
From everything I’ve read – and I was born and raised in Tupelo, so the King is something of a fascination with me – the Big E was fairly liberal for the time concerning his relationship with Black America. He always, always, gave utmost credit to the black artists who influenced him. The long and short of it, the man loved music, and didn’t care if it was blues or R&B or country or bel canto or pop vocalists or gospel of all stripes. There’s a charming story in Peter Guralnick’s Last Train To Memphis of Elvis, at the height of his fame in the late ’60s (after the NBC special), being tongue-tied after meeting Roy Hamilton (the orignal singer of “Unchained Melody”, among others). Elvis hung out in the black parts of Tupelo and, later, Memphis, listening to the music, absorbing the culture and, basically, just digging the vibe.
He was, however, a Depression-era dirty white boy from the Tombigbee Bottom, and he wasn’t perfect. For one, his treatment of women – apart from his sainted momma – was, well…just plain tacky. In fact, apparently the only thing that kept him from bedding a girl was knowing she’d slept with a black dude. He didn’t mind what other folks did, but he wouldn’t have anything to do with it.
There’s also a story about him making a crack about “smelling catfish” on his black female back-up singers, the Sweet Inspirations (I think), during his post-Priscilla big tour days. However, he immediately apologized for the remark, saying he didn’t mean to offend. It should be noted that, by this time, the King was way far gone on the wacky pills and, frankly, completely devestated that his wife finally got tired of his rather “old school” to say the least view of marriage. He wouldn’t have sex with his wife after she had Lisa Marie, and that’s where I’ll leave it.
But you do nail it: Elvis knew that music in a way someone like Pat Boone never could. He knew it as well as he knew Hank Williams or Eddy Arnold. That’s why his Sun stuff is so amazing, because it sounds like nothing that came before, and why his latter R&B covers are so damn rockin’. He’s damn near the only white man ever who sang a soul or R&B song better than the original artist.*
The King’s ability to be all things to all music isn’t just because he’s so awesome. It is, I think, a Southern thing, particularly for the time. The lines between the music blur and, basically, become nothing but what society says they must be. Clarence Carter sang country music and George Jones is a soulful motherfucker.** It’s not like that anymore, admittedly, and what made the King special is that, well, he’s fucking awesome. The guy could sing anything, and could sing like a goddamn angel even when he was a total wreck. I’ve seen his last concert: fat, sweaty, sad, broken, but reaching heaven when he sang “My Way”.
And about the residuals, that really wouldn’t have worked out like that. For one, Big Mama Thorton didn’t write “Hound Dog” – two white guys named Leiber & Stoller did*** – and another, Elvis had almost nothing to do with managing his money. That was all Col. Tom, and it should be noted that most folks consider dying Elvis’ smartest business move. He was bleeding money by 1977, and the bulk of it was Col. Tom’s fault. Wouldja believe that dumb bastard gave up the royalty rights to E’s Sun stuff, believing the King’s newer records would sell better.
Anyhow, most black artists got screwed by their record companies, if there was any screwing to be done, and you’d be amazed at how rare that really is, more or less. However, the King donated a lot of money to charaties and organizations dedicated to helping poor urban and rural African-American communities. It was just giving Cadillacs to friends, Elvis Presley’s heart was as big as his talent. He was a hard-core, backwoods Christian and arguably conservative politically, but unlike today’s wingnuts, the man walked the walked.
And Pat Boone? Man, I’ve seen video of Boone from the ’50s, and it’s like he’s doing a parody of white people. Like the voice Richard Pryor and Eddie Murphy used for the stiff, middle-class white guy, that sort of thing.
I could say more, but I’ve already rambled too much. Sorry, y’all, but pop music sociology – particularly from the pre-Civil Rights era – is something of a hobby of mine. And, of course, I do loves me some Elvis.
*Not many, admittedly, but he definately top’s Arthur Alexander’s version of “Burning Love”, and I loves me some Arthur Alexander.
** Know who said so? Ray Charles, that’s who!
*** Or, if you believe Johnny Otis of “Willie & The Hand Jive” fame, he did. Course, that’s disputed, and in any event, he’s another white guy.
From everything I’ve read – and I was born and raised in Tupelo, so the King is something of a fascination with me – the Big E was fairly liberal for the time concerning his relationship with Black America. He always, always, gave utmost credit to the black artists who influenced him. The long and short of it, the man loved music, and didn’t care if it was blues or R&B or country or bel canto or pop vocalists or gospel of all stripes. There’s a charming story in Peter Guralnick’s Last Train To Memphis of Elvis, at the height of his fame in the late ’60s (after the NBC special), being tongue-tied after meeting Roy Hamilton (the orignal singer of “Unchained Melody”, among others). Elvis hung out in the black parts of Tupelo and, later, Memphis, listening to the music, absorbing the culture and, basically, just digging the vibe.
He was, however, a Depression-era dirty white boy from the Tombigbee Bottom, and he wasn’t perfect. For one, his treatment of women – apart from his sainted momma – was, well…just plain tacky. In fact, apparently the only thing that kept him from bedding a girl was knowing she’d slept with a black dude. He didn’t mind what other folks did, but he wouldn’t have anything to do with it.
There’s also a story about him making a crack about “smelling catfish” on his black female back-up singers, the Sweet Inspirations (I think), during his post-Priscilla big tour days. However, he immediately apologized for the remark, saying he didn’t mean to offend. It should be noted that, by this time, the King was way far gone on the wacky pills and, frankly, completely devestated that his wife finally got tired of his rather “old school” to say the least view of marriage. He wouldn’t have sex with his wife after she had Lisa Marie, and that’s where I’ll leave it.
But you do nail it: Elvis knew that music in a way someone like Pat Boone never could. He knew it as well as he knew Hank Williams or Eddy Arnold. That’s why his Sun stuff is so amazing, because it sounds like nothing that came before, and why his latter R&B covers are so damn rockin’. He’s damn near the only white man ever who sang a soul or R&B song better than the original artist.*
The King’s ability to be all things to all music isn’t just because he’s so awesome. It is, I think, a Southern thing, particularly for the time. The lines between the music blur and, basically, become nothing but what society says they must be. Clarence Carter sang country music and George Jones is a soulful motherfucker.** It’s not like that anymore, admittedly, and what made the King special is that, well, he’s fucking awesome. The guy could sing anything, and could sing like a goddamn angel even when he was a total wreck. I’ve seen his last concert: fat, sweaty, sad, broken, but reaching heaven when he sang “My Way”.
And about the residuals, that really wouldn’t have worked out like that. For one, Big Mama Thorton didn’t write “Hound Dog” – two white guys named Leiber & Stoller did*** – and another, Elvis had almost nothing to do with managing his money. That was all Col. Tom, and it should be noted that most folks consider dying Elvis’ smartest business move. He was bleeding money by 1977, and the bulk of it was Col. Tom’s fault. Wouldja believe that dumb bastard gave up the royalty rights to E’s Sun stuff, believing the King’s newer records would sell better.
Anyhow, most black artists got screwed by their record companies, if there was any screwing to be done, and you’d be amazed at how rare that really is, more or less. However, the King donated a lot of money to charaties and organizations dedicated to helping poor urban and rural African-American communities. It was just giving Cadillacs to friends, Elvis Presley’s heart was as big as his talent. He was a hard-core, backwoods Christian and arguably conservative politically, but unlike today’s wingnuts, the man walked the walked.
And Pat Boone? Man, I’ve seen video of Boone from the ’50s, and it’s like he’s doing a parody of white people. Like the voice Richard Pryor and Eddie Murphy used for the stiff, middle-class white guy, that sort of thing.
I could say more, but I’ve already rambled too much. Sorry, y’all, but pop music sociology – particularly from the pre-Civil Rights era – is something of a hobby of mine. And, of course, I do loves me some Elvis.
*Not many, admittedly, but he definately top’s Arthur Alexander’s version of “Burning Love”, and I loves me some Arthur Alexander.
** Know who said so? Ray Charles, that’s who!
*** Or, if you believe Johnny Otis of “Willie & The Hand Jive” fame, he did. Course, that’s disputed, and in any event, he’s another white guy.
And, for what it’s worth, apparently Elvis was unaware of Big Mama’s rendition of the song when he cut it. I forget the name of the band, but it was some outfit he saw during his disastorous first trip to Vegas in ’57 or so. Humorously enough, the brutal motherfucker who ran Peacock Records, Don Robey, sued Sam Phillips of Sun Records back in ’54 over Rufus Thomas’ answer record “Bear Cat”.
I’ll stop now, sorry.
I’ll stop now, sorry.
Wow, that’s some great stuff Matt T.! I never knew that the Sweet Inspirations did backup for Elvis but it doesn’t surprise me. If you don’t mind, I’ll add a little trivia tidbit of my own regarding them: One of the trio was Sissy Houston, mother of Whitney. And if you want to know how Whitney came by her vocal chords, give a listen to Herbie Mann’s version of “Cajun Moon” in which Sissy sings. Personally, I don’t think Whitney can hold a candle to her mom.
Cissy Houston is also the Aunt of Dionne Warwick.
The Sweet Inspirations did have one big pop hit on their own in the ’60′s, titled “Sweet Inspiration”.
The Sweet Inspirations did have one big pop hit on their own in the ’60′s, titled “Sweet Inspiration”.
BeginningToWonder,
No argument from me. Her personal troubles and media flare-ups aside, I always thought the only thing wrong with Whitney Houston was she was just another victim/participant in the overwhelming blandness that was the bulk of ’80s and ’90s popular art. As far as children of music legends go, she definately leads the pack in terms of making her own name (rivaled only perhaps by Hank Williams Jr., though in a totally different way), but perhaps it’s that lack of “hard-time hungries” and her relatively early fame that gives her mom the edge. The river of time and tide that inevitably blurs and dilutes everything, while making new and interesting eddies unoticed off to the side, something like that.
Who knows. Maybe, five or ten years from now once her current troubles are over, Whitney will pull a Marianne Faithful and blow us all away. Never can tell.
No argument from me. Her personal troubles and media flare-ups aside, I always thought the only thing wrong with Whitney Houston was she was just another victim/participant in the overwhelming blandness that was the bulk of ’80s and ’90s popular art. As far as children of music legends go, she definately leads the pack in terms of making her own name (rivaled only perhaps by Hank Williams Jr., though in a totally different way), but perhaps it’s that lack of “hard-time hungries” and her relatively early fame that gives her mom the edge. The river of time and tide that inevitably blurs and dilutes everything, while making new and interesting eddies unoticed off to the side, something like that.
Who knows. Maybe, five or ten years from now once her current troubles are over, Whitney will pull a Marianne Faithful and blow us all away. Never can tell.
Matt, I’m right proud to have pried a music-lover like you out of the woodwork, so to speak, but I do need to correct a few things: I *knew* that Lieber-Stoller *wrote* “Hound Dog,” but the version that Elvis originally heard wasn’t Big Mama’s version. I don’t remember who covered it before her, but he wasn’t even INTERESTED in that song until he heard Big Mama sing it. In that sense, yeah, Elvis OWED THE WOMAN.
Not to mention that she never got ANY of the residuals owed her on the songs that she DID write, although Janis Joplin did do as much as she could to hook Big Mama up in her declining years (ironic that Big Mama outlived Janis, eh?).
And I hate to break it to you, darlin’, but the MAJORITY of black artists who put out very popular “race records” and original R&B/rock & roll/blues music never saw a DIME in residuals, the record companies (including Sam Phillips) RIPPED THEM ALL off, which is why so many of the great original black singers died poor, alone, and either drinking themselves to death or shooting up until the pain stopped.
Big Mama died alone of alcohol poisoning in a flop-house in Houston, and for what? The biggest pair of lungs to ever grace the blues, and did she ever ONCE get what she deserved? Helllllll no. Despite the fact that she was a much-loved performer of blues, jazz, and rock & roll over three continents in her 40-year career.
And while I know that Big E sent a lot of money back to Tupelo (po’ white folks and black alike), I also know that he was very paranoid about the long-standing rumors that his mama was an “octaroon.” That’s why he always sucked-up to the Daughters Of The Confederacy types and the rednecked racists across this country. I know that the boy meant well, but I will never get over the feeling that he was overcompensating for some secret shame that had nothing to do with his twin brother. Look at those lips, that nose… You know how it is… if you’re kin to ANYBODY in Mizzippi, you’re kin to EVERYBODY in Mizzippi! (And I can say that, seeing as how I’m related to most of {{{shudder}}} Wilkinson County.)
Maybe that’s why, whether stoned-out-of-his-gourd or not, he made more than one racial slur in his day.
There’s a longstanding story in NOLA about Elvis visiting/performing there, and leaving behind the remark, as many upper-crust black people were hanging out in the segregated part of his hotel, hoping to get an autograph, that he said: “Ain’t but two things that n*****s can do for me: Buy my records and shine my shoes.”
You won’t find too many fans of Elvis in New Orleans, unless you count the white republicunt yuppie scum who are trying to play “eminent domain” on all of the shut-down public housing projects (great sites for future condos, dontcha know).
Don’t get me wrong, I loved that boy and always will — I’ll never forget the day that he died, coming home from school and finding my “mother” on the floor in front of the television, crying her “heart” out, because she’d never gotten to see Elvis perform live, and now it really was too late.
But he was, after all, human, and he grew up in the post-Depression Delta, poor as all hell, but workin’ his ass off from the day he could walk. Just like every generation before him — they never owned plantations, they usually sharecropped or picked on some carpetbagger’s plantation.
Needless to say, the boy was born with a gift, and the closest thing to him that I’ve seen since is Prince — and Prince can actually PLAY the guitar… Not quite like Elvis on the piano, but damned good and amazingly talented to this day.
I was kinda hoping that Lisa Marie would go somewhere with her singing, I liked that one album, but haven’t heard hide nor hair of her since.
And as for Whitney, I’m still pissed at that heifer for pissing away one of the very rare, truly PURE voices to have ever graced this planet, and for WHAT??!?! A crackhead piece of shit like BOBBY?!?!??! That girl makes my blood boil, just thinking about it. Only three women I know who were born with voices that pure: Patsy Cline, Dolly Parton (before she became such a plastic-surgery junkie that she endangered her own vocal chords), and Whitney Houston.
At least Patsy died before she went the way of the other two, I guess… *sigh*
Not to mention that she never got ANY of the residuals owed her on the songs that she DID write, although Janis Joplin did do as much as she could to hook Big Mama up in her declining years (ironic that Big Mama outlived Janis, eh?).
And I hate to break it to you, darlin’, but the MAJORITY of black artists who put out very popular “race records” and original R&B/rock & roll/blues music never saw a DIME in residuals, the record companies (including Sam Phillips) RIPPED THEM ALL off, which is why so many of the great original black singers died poor, alone, and either drinking themselves to death or shooting up until the pain stopped.
Big Mama died alone of alcohol poisoning in a flop-house in Houston, and for what? The biggest pair of lungs to ever grace the blues, and did she ever ONCE get what she deserved? Helllllll no. Despite the fact that she was a much-loved performer of blues, jazz, and rock & roll over three continents in her 40-year career.
And while I know that Big E sent a lot of money back to Tupelo (po’ white folks and black alike), I also know that he was very paranoid about the long-standing rumors that his mama was an “octaroon.” That’s why he always sucked-up to the Daughters Of The Confederacy types and the rednecked racists across this country. I know that the boy meant well, but I will never get over the feeling that he was overcompensating for some secret shame that had nothing to do with his twin brother. Look at those lips, that nose… You know how it is… if you’re kin to ANYBODY in Mizzippi, you’re kin to EVERYBODY in Mizzippi! (And I can say that, seeing as how I’m related to most of {{{shudder}}} Wilkinson County.)
Maybe that’s why, whether stoned-out-of-his-gourd or not, he made more than one racial slur in his day.
There’s a longstanding story in NOLA about Elvis visiting/performing there, and leaving behind the remark, as many upper-crust black people were hanging out in the segregated part of his hotel, hoping to get an autograph, that he said: “Ain’t but two things that n*****s can do for me: Buy my records and shine my shoes.”
You won’t find too many fans of Elvis in New Orleans, unless you count the white republicunt yuppie scum who are trying to play “eminent domain” on all of the shut-down public housing projects (great sites for future condos, dontcha know).
Don’t get me wrong, I loved that boy and always will — I’ll never forget the day that he died, coming home from school and finding my “mother” on the floor in front of the television, crying her “heart” out, because she’d never gotten to see Elvis perform live, and now it really was too late.
But he was, after all, human, and he grew up in the post-Depression Delta, poor as all hell, but workin’ his ass off from the day he could walk. Just like every generation before him — they never owned plantations, they usually sharecropped or picked on some carpetbagger’s plantation.
Needless to say, the boy was born with a gift, and the closest thing to him that I’ve seen since is Prince — and Prince can actually PLAY the guitar… Not quite like Elvis on the piano, but damned good and amazingly talented to this day.
I was kinda hoping that Lisa Marie would go somewhere with her singing, I liked that one album, but haven’t heard hide nor hair of her since.
And as for Whitney, I’m still pissed at that heifer for pissing away one of the very rare, truly PURE voices to have ever graced this planet, and for WHAT??!?! A crackhead piece of shit like BOBBY?!?!??! That girl makes my blood boil, just thinking about it. Only three women I know who were born with voices that pure: Patsy Cline, Dolly Parton (before she became such a plastic-surgery junkie that she endangered her own vocal chords), and Whitney Houston.
At least Patsy died before she went the way of the other two, I guess… *sigh*
Anti,
I’ve heard the shoe-shining story before, but I’ve heard that it happened in Cincinatti. And Detroit. And New York City. And Memphis. And Los Angeles. And Las Vegas. And that he said it on Ed Murrow’s show. And that it was said during an interview with a black magazine. And that it didn’t happen. From what I understand, there’s no real evidence that it ever happened. Who knows, I suppose.
I’ve also heard Elvis’ secret shame was that his grandmother was Jewish. Or that the reason the country’s not full of little bastard Elvi is that he was actually gay and all those women were beards. Or that he couldn’t get it up and just liked to watch. Albert Goldman said Elvis was disgusted by the sight of his own uncircumcised penis.
Of course, all this fails to recognize the one, solid truth concerning the King: the fact that he’s actually still alive and working at a Dairy Queen in Idaho Falls. Amazing, isn’t it, the multitude of symbols some dumbass stump jumper with a decent set of pipes and a good look has come to represent, and the guy’s only been dead 30 years. Sorta puts the whole Jesus thing in a different perspective to me.
As for the rest, well…I wish I could think of something to say that doesn’t sound as trite as “very few get the recognition they deserve” and “businessmen will screw you seven ways from Sunday the very first chance they get, and that goes double for ANYONE in the music business who doesn’t actually make music”, but I can’t think of anything. I’m not exactly sure how it came across that I thought the picture was a rosier one, but rest asured I’m hip. Me, I’ve always thought it interesting that, up until very recently (and that’s open for debate), any time a black musician began to amass a little real, actual power in the music industry, he either wound up in trouble with the law (Chuck Berry, James Brown) or wound up dead (Sam Cooke, Otis Redding). It’s just idle thought, mind you, and I do realize it’s definately a stretch concerning The Big O, but I does catch me as an odd stroke during certain green, hazy moments.
However, unless I see anything that contradicts it, everything I’ve come up with says Elvis was apparently unaware of Big Mama’s version of “Hound Dog” when he cut it. Got it from an outfit named Freddie Bell & The Bell Boys, including the somewhat sanitized lyrics, whilst playing in Vegas. I could be misled, though, as it’s certainly happened before.
I’ve heard the shoe-shining story before, but I’ve heard that it happened in Cincinatti. And Detroit. And New York City. And Memphis. And Los Angeles. And Las Vegas. And that he said it on Ed Murrow’s show. And that it was said during an interview with a black magazine. And that it didn’t happen. From what I understand, there’s no real evidence that it ever happened. Who knows, I suppose.
I’ve also heard Elvis’ secret shame was that his grandmother was Jewish. Or that the reason the country’s not full of little bastard Elvi is that he was actually gay and all those women were beards. Or that he couldn’t get it up and just liked to watch. Albert Goldman said Elvis was disgusted by the sight of his own uncircumcised penis.
Of course, all this fails to recognize the one, solid truth concerning the King: the fact that he’s actually still alive and working at a Dairy Queen in Idaho Falls. Amazing, isn’t it, the multitude of symbols some dumbass stump jumper with a decent set of pipes and a good look has come to represent, and the guy’s only been dead 30 years. Sorta puts the whole Jesus thing in a different perspective to me.
As for the rest, well…I wish I could think of something to say that doesn’t sound as trite as “very few get the recognition they deserve” and “businessmen will screw you seven ways from Sunday the very first chance they get, and that goes double for ANYONE in the music business who doesn’t actually make music”, but I can’t think of anything. I’m not exactly sure how it came across that I thought the picture was a rosier one, but rest asured I’m hip. Me, I’ve always thought it interesting that, up until very recently (and that’s open for debate), any time a black musician began to amass a little real, actual power in the music industry, he either wound up in trouble with the law (Chuck Berry, James Brown) or wound up dead (Sam Cooke, Otis Redding). It’s just idle thought, mind you, and I do realize it’s definately a stretch concerning The Big O, but I does catch me as an odd stroke during certain green, hazy moments.
However, unless I see anything that contradicts it, everything I’ve come up with says Elvis was apparently unaware of Big Mama’s version of “Hound Dog” when he cut it. Got it from an outfit named Freddie Bell & The Bell Boys, including the somewhat sanitized lyrics, whilst playing in Vegas. I could be misled, though, as it’s certainly happened before.
What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?
WhiteBuckTards.
WhiteBuckTards.
What do you get when you mix popular radio host/author Michael Savage with famed singer/entertainer/author Pat Boone?
I would imagine it would be something like an 12′ acousticly powered Newt Gingrich lacking any self control
I would imagine it would be something like an 12′ acousticly powered Newt Gingrich lacking any self control
Well, obviously, Matt, you’ve never seen Bubba Ho-Tep…
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0281686/
heh heh heh…
Not really worth the rental, and not as funny as Bruce Campbell’s usual work, but an interesting piece of pop-culture observation.
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0281686/
heh heh heh…
Not really worth the rental, and not as funny as Bruce Campbell’s usual work, but an interesting piece of pop-culture observation.
“radio host/author Michael Savage”
Correction: “Screaming frothy maniac Michael ‘Weiner’ Savage.
Correction: “Screaming frothy maniac Michael ‘Weiner’ Savage.
I’m so late with this that nobody’ll see it, but … well, you got your Savage Weiner and your Pat Boner, so between the two (eww) it’s bound to be pretty dickish.
A brand new assisted suicide movement. Alternately, significantly less than a quorum of the Log Cabin Republicans, closeted faction.